


Going For The Gold

by SimplyTsundere



Series: Writing Requests [23]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bottom Jean Kirstein, Canadian Jean, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Native American Marco, One Shot, Smut, Snowboarder Marco, Sports Photographer Jean, Top Marco Bott, Winter Olympics, Writing request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11134935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyTsundere/pseuds/SimplyTsundere
Summary: Jean Kirschtein is sent out to photograph the athletes of the Winter Olympics. Of course, as a native Canadian, he loves getting to return home for the Vancouver games. It only comes with the added benefit of getting to capture the man who awes all crowds, Marco Bodt, on film. He's out for the perfect shot but Marco is out for more than that. After meeting Marco by happenstance in a local bar, Jean learns sometimes that going for a golden opportunity when it presents itself is exactly what one should do.





	Going For The Gold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mars00135](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars00135/gifts).



> Mars, 
> 
> I love you more than there are stars in the galaxies. Like, seriously, you're so fantastic. Thank you for this impromptu request. It's still very much unedited so I'll go in soon and check over it. It's only fitting that my 50th work in this fandom goes out to you! I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> ~Kat.
> 
> Everyone, I hope you enjoy this monstrosity that a close friend asked me to whip up. I got this request around this time last night and have mulled it over all day. It's a rough draft so I'll be editing it at random times tomorrow. I hope it lives up to the writing standards I'm held to!
> 
> ~Hugs & Kisses,  
> ❤♠Neko❤♠

Breathing in that crisp winter air sent a sweet shiver down Jean’s spine and a slight burn through his nostrils down into his lungs. He’d loved the winter as long as he could remember seeing his first snowflakes fall. Being a native of the ‘Beautiful Province’ Jean’s tolerance for the cold was just thick enough for him to be at his current position knee deep in the snow. Vancouver was hosting the Winter Olympics and he’d been damned if he wasn’t going to get the perfect shots. Mariey might kill him if he didn’t.

Working for a woman with an attitude to rival an angry bull before her daily coffee intake, Jean was definitely aware of the risks bad shots came with. He’d been entrusted to get good captures this go around in his native land being around something he loved. He’d have sworn the brunette would strangle him with his press pass had he forgotten it like he did at the X Games. There could be no mistakes. Though Jean was a good 4 inches taller naturally, she stood an inch taller in her average heels and met his amber gaze with one of intense umber. At such a close distance he felt the need to suck in his breath as if the fierce woman could steal it from him.

Good days were good but the bad days made Hurricane Katrina seem like a gentle drizzle. A newsroom erupting with a booming voice coming from woman standing an easy 6ft with near shoulder length pecan hair, wearing a leather jacket over her flowy peach dress, and a large cup of coffee in her hand might not have seemed frightening to most people but those people should have been counting their blessings. To Jean, Mariey was a force to be reckoned with and being called into her office was mortifying. Her angular features complimented a cool personality however also gave her the aura of intimidation until she smiled. Mariey smiling wasn’t a picture he saw too much but the second she’d smiled, clapped him on the back, and handed him a plane ticket he knew something was up.

Of course something was up. Mariey had put him on a plane at a little after midnight to send him to Vancouver so he could cover the Olympics. It was something he was passionate about, she knew that, and so he was determined to get the best photos possible. Staring at the events through a lens was mesmerizing but he wanted to be closer. If he could reach out and touch an athlete he’d have a field day. Unfortunately, only his lens would allow him to be that close and watching the snowboarders defy gravity on the one of the most dangerous activities in the Olympics was making his year. Four years ago he hadn’t been up to caliber for the job and he’d gone on to do something else.

Covering the Winter X games had given him a yearly obligation two years ago but it had also given him an obsession. His obsession with the sports had long ago since sank in but his obsession with a phenomenal athlete hadn’t. Marco Bodt, jokingly dubbed Marco Bodt-y, was a snowboarder of incredible talent and poise. Something about watching the way his body moved and contorted within seconds before landing back to the powdery snow held his focus intently. It wasn’t just the actions; the spins, the flips, the reverses. Jean found himself hooked on the man beneath the goggles.

With perfectly tanned skin dusted with freckles thanks to his Native American heritage, Marco Bodt turned heads no matter where he went. Rich umber eyes had a way of captivating everyone around him and his smile was infectious. Marco Bodt smiled revealing perfectly straight pearly whites and made everyone want to reciprocate. His laughter forced a lighthearted atmosphere and Jean found it to be more than a simple attractant. At 6’2 Marco was one of the taller men of the USA team and also made his board grabs a bit harder. It was that kind of determination to fight against his own body that made Jean lose any sense of coherence.

Someone so talented had fought for years against the harder parts of his sport just because of how he was built. Once Marco had said in an interview that “snowboarding was the best love-hate relationship he could ever have. Parts of him loved the ability to feel so free in the air but to get to that point he had to take plenty of falls, broken bones, and despair along the way. It hated you at first but then it was all just love until it came time to try for a new trick.” He had such passion, such drive, for his sport that it made his head spin. Even so, looking at him as he approached the top of the half pipe had him completely focused.

Kneeling to steady himself, Jean dropped to a knee and began to poise his camera to the air. Snapping several shots of Marco once in the air he knew that somewhere down the line he’d get a photo. He wanted to wait for a specific moment before devoting his breath to the perfect photo. News was Marco was performing a trick never before seen on a rail and thus Jean wanted that photo more than anything. His slides down the pipe were all well and good, each method, each ollie off the wall with the tail of his board, each nosegrab, each invert on the wall, and each flip. All his tricks were beautiful as always but he wanted that special trick. He _ needed  _ that new trick.

A perfect capture of that aerial moment and that was all he needed. Much to his astonishment that moment came much quicker than he’d imagined. A light sprinkle of snow began to fall around them giving Jean a perfect moment to capture Marco’s actions. Watching in awe, Jean was completely enraptured Marco reached behind him at the pinnacle of his ascent, grabbed the space between his feet, bent his back in a perfect arch and stretched out one arm above his head displaying a peace sign. Jean had steadied himself and snapped a photo just as he’d displayed the sign. Everything about it was sheer perfection and he wasn’t thinking of the photo. Watching as Marco had twisted his body back and board in such a way made Jean’s heart beat faster.

Roars of cheers came from excited spectators ignoring the chill from the falling snow. It seemed as Marco finished up his ride on the halfpipe everyone was excited to see how his score came out. Of course, like all other times, the former Olympic athlete had achieved a near perfect score. Only one or two deductions had come from the wobble in his invert handstands off the wall. Marco’s cheeks had been tinged pink from the exercise and his umber waves of hair that laid over his undercut were tousled in a cute little mess as he took off his gear and stood to speak with the announcer of the games. Jean couldn’t help turning to him for several more pictures as he caught a glimpse of that smile aimed at him for what seemed like a fraction of a second.

During the rest of the runs of the day he’d been so out of it he was working on autopilot. He managed to hold the shutter and get several shots, several frame by frames, of more athletes but nothing had him on his toes the way Marco had. By the end of the events he was still in a daze. Once he got back to the hotel to warm up a bit he decided that he was going to look over the photos and see which ones were the best to send his boss a selection of shots. The last thing he needed was the witch with a capital B harping him. After his sent in his shots he had nothing had else to do which meant there was only one thing to do: hit up the bar.

Nothing like fine Canadian whiskey to light the fire in his veins. It definitely tasted like being home and so did the quaint, cozy atmosphere the old stone tavern provided. There was just enough of a relaxed environment and some excitement about the Olympic games to have him smiling as he casually leaned forward on the cherrywood bar. Replays were scrolling across the television and it suddenly latched his attention when he heard some announcers going over Marco’s scores.

“You know they make it seem way harder than it really is,” came a sweet voice echoing by his ear. Quickly shifting on his stool Jean whipped around to see none other than Marco Bodt leaning over the bar. Dressed in a pair of casual blue jeans and a deep merlot, long sleeved shirt beneath a thick army green jacket he had all of Jean’s attention. Not even the black beanie on Jean’s head could hide the blush creeping from his toes up to the tips of his pierced ears. Chewing on his tongue ring, Jean had to fight the awkward squeal trying to escape his mouth.

Instead, Jean nodded and hummed “Hmm?”

Marco flashed a pearly grin and called over the bartender to order a drink before turning to him “Snowboarding. It might not be the easiest thing in the world to learn but once you get the hang of it it’s not so bad.”

“You once said in an interview that it was a love-hate relationship so I doubt anyone would believe you spouting that line if they know who you are,” Jean offered as he stared down at the table.

Shocked by the sudden words, Marco chuckled “Haha, so you know who I am? Interesting. That interview was, what, like, three years ago maybe? That’s a good memory you have there…..”

As he trailed off to ask for his name, Jean sighed “Jean Kirschtein. I just recall it is all. I read a lot of interviews of a lot of athletes. Don’t feel special or anything.”

Marco recoiled slightly at the tone “Oh, ouch, there went my hope flying right out the window. What is it that you do, Jean? That’s French right?”

“French _ Canadian. _ I’m from Quebec City,” Jean droned before trying to snap himself out of his whiskey flavored haze “but I’m a sports photographer for a publication in the states. Suffice to say that I know _ more _ than just a hint about you, Mr. Bodt. I’ve followed your career for a while.”

Intrigued, Marco smirked “And I’m not supposed to feel special that you had a good bit of attention focused me? If I had known someone as pretty as you was following me I might be so inclined to give you a _ good  _ interview…up close and  _ personal.” _

Clearly surprised by his words, Jean blinked slowly “Uh...are you hitting on me? I think I may have had too much to drink.” Jean’s brain couldn’t process this. Drinking was bound to have it’s blur but he didn’t think he’d start hearing things like a god of a snowboarder hitting on him. It didn’t seem logical. Sure, the athletes do enjoy their fair share of romps out on the road but Jean was flabbergasted. This seemed like something out of his fantasies not something he could experience in reality.

As if to enforce his words, Marco slid a hand up Jean’s thigh and smirked “And if I  _ was  _ what would you do about it?”

Fighting to keep his whiskey in his mouth, Jean quickly swallowed down the liquid and glanced down to the hand on his inner thigh “Uh, I might wonder how impaired you are for starters. Listen,” picking up Marco’s hand he dropped it on his leg “you shouldn’t really wanna hit on someone whose job it is to follow you around for things like this. We’d see a lot of each other and I promise, I’m awkward enough in these situations, but afterwards? I’d fumble all over the place.”

“You’re thinking too much,” Marco replied as he downed a shot of a clear liquid and motioned for another “it’s not like I’m a one night stand type of guy. You’re pretty, you’re drinking alone at a bar, and so am I. ”

“I highly doubt your intentions border on asking for dinner and respectfully accepting my decline of physical intimacy in any format,” Jean sighed. 

Shaking his head after the second shot, Marco’s smile dropped it’s charismatic charm “Look, I said **not** one night. If you’re around more often then what’s the harm in a couple of nights?” Jean tried to wrap his mind around the fact the man he’d been swooning over was now asking to have sex with him. It didn’t seem right and it didn’t exactly feel like Jean should say yes to that. Marco was beautiful and charming. He had a way of making Jean want to say yes and give into him. Part of Jean definitely wanted to surrender himself into the strong embrace of the man but part of him felt like it was too good to be true and part of it felt cheap. Then again, how often was he going to have this chance?

Jean smiled and leaned forward “Spend the night with me in the bar and I’ll make up my mind after a little bit. Who knows; maybe a little liquid courage will make me a little less awkward with my mouth. I have a bad habit of saying exactly what I think which leads to trouble.”

Marco nodded “Alright, well tell me exactly what’s on your mind right now. Good or bad. I can handle blunt honesty…...you’ve never met my twin sister, Ymir. She’s just one of those people who says exactly what she means at the very moment it pops into her brain.”

“Didn’t know you had a twin,” Jean answered “I know your professional stats for the last six years but I don’t know much else. I didn’t get that obsessed--”

_ “Obsessed?”  _ Marco questioned.

Rolling his eyes, Jean groaned “I didn’t really mean obsessed…more like mildly engrossed with your ability. I’ve been through lots of tournaments and I hardly ever see someone with such dedication to their sport. It’s admirable.”

Giving him a smile, Marco nodded “I see. Thank you. As for my twin, well, she can be found at each of those events screaming the most obnoxiously. She looks kinda like me; tall, tan, freckles, brunette. Her eyes are amber though. Not too far off from yours but yours are definitely better.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jean muttered softly as he shifted his gaze back to the low ball glass on the countertop “I’ll be sure to look for her tomorrow. You should watch your bend on that method backside air. Your hand slipped because you bent back too far. I get the dramatics of it all but be careful. I think I was the only one, aside from another spare photographer or two, who could see it. Just sayin’.”

“Noted,” Marco chuckled “you aren’t one for personal things are you? I say something about you and you find a way to route it back to me.”

“You’re more interesting,” Jean answered.

“Even right there,” Marco pointed out as he leaned over “you made it about me. I know you find me interesting but I wanna know about _ Jean.” _

Jean sighed and shrugged “Alright, I’m adopted. I’m an only child, I have a degree in photography, digital art, and journalism & communications. Two associates and one masters. I have a dog; her name is Zena she’s a doberman pinscher. She’s the closest thing to companionship I’ve had since college. I live practically out of suitcase, I haven’t seen my apartment in over a month, and the most valuable thing I own is my camera. I have my tongue pierced and my navel.”

Marco glanced down to his stomach “Oh? Interesting choice. Can I see?”

The obvious answer should have been no but Jean just shrugged and raised his shirt “Not impressive but alright.”

There was a flirty little hum from Marco as he reached out but refused to actually touch him “I dunno, I like it.” Biting the corner of his lip, Marco looked up to him “So, you’re very well educated, like dogs, wish you were home more, love your job, and need a man in your life...or woman?”

“Or woman,” Jean replied “since I don’t really discriminate. What about you? Tell me, Mister World Class Athlete, some things that I don’t know about you or can’t read off a paper.”

Marco leaned back and thought for a moment before answering “Well, let's start with what you  _ can  _ read. I’m 28, I’ve been in the circuit for about 10 years, I’ve had over twenty broken bones, and I started snowboarding because there wasn’t a lot to do in Montana when it got cold out. I’m about 70ish percent Native American, Lakota. My twin sister was born not quite a full minute before me and likes to text me to tell me what she did when she was my age. It’s just literally what she did a minute before sending the text. I didn’t go to college because I didn’t really need to but I would have liked to in hindsight. I’m gayer than Liberace. I have three tattoos and the only piercing I had got ripped out one night while I was practicing a trick off a halfpipe. I was 17, thought a septum ring was hella _ ‘rad’  _ and I came down to slide my face against the iced concrete. Ripped it clean out.”

Jean’s eyes rounded in surprise as Marco  lifted his chin, displaying a jagged scar beneath his septum “Youch. That sounds incredibly unpleasant. It at least healed alright. What are your tattoos?”

Shaking his head, Marco grinned “I show not tell. Save it for another time?”

Knowing what his answer would mean, Jean swallowed his pride and nodded “Yeah, sure. By the way, you’re two years older than me so when you were my age I was taking my first shots of you in the Winter X games.”

“Haha, interesting. That was the year I broke my ankle wasn’t it?” Marco asked with a grimace. “One hell of a bad first impression.”

“The _ real  _ one isn’t too bad,” Jean replied with a soft snicker. He had to admit that he was having a good bit of fun. Marco was a rather down to earth guy despite constantly having his head in the clouds. He found he rather liked him a little more even if he knew Marco really wanted into his pants. Knowing him a little more told him there might have been something else to it all.

“Glad to see I didn’t  _ completely  _ ruin it,” Marco offered as he got closer “but you were sitting here alone, looking a bit out of it as you stared up at the screen, at me, and I just couldn’t help but realize how beautiful you are. Bars aren’t typically made for asking someone out to dinner are they? Not really.”

“So you want to sleep with me because you thought I was here for that? I was just having a taste of home,” Jean admitted “but, yeah, you’re right. Most people in a bar aren’t here looking for something steady. Are  _ you?” _

Marco shrugged his shoulders “I don’t know really. There aren’t many people who can keep up with a life on the road…..unless they do it too.”

Catching the hint, Jean laughed “Haha, I get where you’re coming from.” Understanding Marco a bit better, he slid off his stool and placed his money under his glass before turning back “So, care to join me?” Downing his last shot of the night, Marco didn’t miss a beat. He quickly was trailing after him and hopping in his car to tail him back to the hotel. Jean wasn’t thinking too much about how awkward it would definitely be to see him around at each event but maybe it’d be a good thing. What if they could start this as a regular thing? Jean would definitely lose some restful nights but they’d be replaced by a rush of skin and whirlwind romance. It was a golden opportunity but how he was in bed might be the deciding vote. Marco was taking a lot of leaps but he supposed the adrenaline junky in him made him take those risks.

When they made it back to the hotel Marco just busted out laughing and grabbed Jean by the hand. Inside the elevator he watched Marco press the top floor instead of the 13th where Jean’s room was. The moment the silver doors parted allowing them to leave Marco was pulling him near a room at the end of the hall. Removing a key card from his wallet he quickly slid it into the door and pushed it open. Before shutting it he placed the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door making Jean’s stomach cut a flip or two. He knew what this was but it was still being cemented into his mind what was about to happen. 

Marco locked the door and turned to Jean as he shrugged off his jacket “Who would have guessed we were staying in the same hotel? Fancy that kinda luck.” Jean nodded and glanced around the room. It was rather nice. Of course the top floor suites were handed out to the Olympians like it was nothing. The room screamed posh and Jean found himself rather in an awkward state as he wasn’t sure if he should sit on the bed or wait. Marco was already casually tossing off his clothes.

“Y-Yeah, imagine that,” Jean muttered.

Sensing his apprehension, Marco slipped up to wrap his arms around Jean’s thin figure “Hey, are you alright?”

Jean nodded “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little--”

“Awkward?” Marco teased with a smirk. Jean rolled his eyes at his response and attempted to squirm free of his embrace. Simply feeling how broad a chest Marco had pressed firmly to his back suddenly made him realize how strange he must look in comparison. With a pretty face and not much else going for him he began to wonder what Marco saw in him at first glance. His body wasn’t much to look at, he didn’t exactly work out but he managed with a lithe frame. 

“Hey, Marco,” Jean called softly as Marco’s lips pressed to the side of his throat “what exactly made you pick me? Out of everyone alone in that bar, why  _ me?” _

Hold tightening, Marco hummed against his throat “They weren’t interesting. You looked lost in the television staring at me. Your profile is gorgeous, you seemed fun, and your body is _ banging.  _ Why not you, Jean? Maybe I noticed you earlier or thought I did. Are you self conscious?” Jean’s squirming at the question, a physical avoidance maneuver, only solidified the response. “You’ve got **nothing** to be self conscious about. Let me prove it to you.” Jean’s movements stopped as the husky words were whispered seductively at this throat.

Allowing the heat from Marco’s lips to seep into his skin Jean leaned back against Marco’s chest. His words were encouraging, enticing, and so Jean let himself sink into the desire coursing through his veins. Each kiss melted his composure a little more and each heavy breath Marco took had Jean doing the same. Marco's actions were gentle yet brimming with a deep passion that he knew was waiting to be unleashed. It didn't strike Jean as a problem, far from it, as Marco's hand began to wander across his body. A hand steadily crept up beneath his shirt lighting his skin on fire. The heated rush of Marco's skin across his stomach, hand coming to rest at his sternum, Jean released a soft whine that made Marco chuckle. He knew that his actions were beginning to unwind the tension in Jean's body so he wanted a little more.

Removing Jean's peacoat, Marco easily dropped his hands and shoved it from it shoulders. Jean willingly shook it off and went a step farther to remove his t-shirt and beanie tossing them along with the coat. Eyes widening, Marco took the moment to stare at the plummet of Jean's slight protruding hips dipping into his jeans. Unconsciously he licked his lips and shook his head before rushing him. Skimming his hands over Jean's skin, Marco was having a field day being able to touch each bared inch of his skin. Now he just wanted to taste him. Marco's hand slid up Jean's chest and up to his jaw as he firmly stole his lips. Kissing Jean breathless was the first thing he'd wanted to do all night and now he got to have it. Feeling Jean's tongue ring as he begged for a deeper kiss was new but exciting. He began to wonder just what he could do with it as Jean smothered a mewl into their kiss.

Pulling back from his desperate kiss, Jean panted _ "Goddamn, Marco." _

"Gods damned me a long time ago, Jean," he grinned "with a taste for men like you. Sit down on the bed and I'll be right back. I promise." Whining at the fact the heat between them was vanishing, Jean secured a handful of Marco's shirt and jerked him forward. 

Kissing him shortly and leaving him with a nibble at his bottom lip, Jean smirked "You better make it fast." Marco's eyes had yet to revert to their previous size as he stared in amazement. Jean might have not been brazen all the time but the time for nerves was long gone. There was a fire roaring in his gut and he was anxious to feed it. He needed Marco to quell the carnal desire clawing it's way through him and nothing was going to stop him from being sated. He did as he was asked and sat on the bed but decided to see how far he could push Marco's willpower. As Marco snuck off to the small living area, Jean unbuttoned his jeans and shimmied out of them to quickly cast them aside. Laying out atop the bed on his side, he slipped a hand into his boxers and decided his next actions would unleash whatever Marco was holding back on him. It took no genius to see that Marco was holding back but Jean liked it rough, he liked it loud, and he wanted it now.

With a hand down his boxers firmly grasping his cock, Jean began to stroke himself with images of Marco in mind. Picturing what Marco was gong to do to him when he came back into the room spurred his actions a little more. He could hear Marco fumbling around for something just beyond the partition separating the rooms but he decided Marco was taking too long getting back to him. Wiggling a bit in place as he bit back a little moan, Jean kept his slow pace as precum began to dribble down his cock, beading his skin.

_ "Mmm Marco!~~"  _ Jean moaned loudly as he arched his back from a quick stroke. Immediately a loud bang sounded in the next room followed by a string of curses. Waltzing out of the room a bit disheveled, Marco took one look at Jean writhing on the bed and had to brace his back to the wall. Jean smirked devilishly and only continued. He noticed in that moment the surprise vacate his face to be replaced by something dark. Marco's featured contorted with a snarl as a growl echoed in the back of his throat. Throwing his shirt over his head, Marco walked over to the bed, grabbed Jean's forearms and pulled them over his head. Staring up into lust tinted eyes flaring with something he couldn't place, Jean panted out a short whimper that made Marco's skin prick.

"You impatient boy," Marco sneered with a playful lilt. "One minute you're too shy to move and the next you're taking my breath with this view moaning my name. I misplaced something I had plans to use so excuse me for taking so long. Just what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you were taking  _ way _ too long," Jean smiled as he looped an ankle over Marco's hip as he straddled his body. As Marco loomed over him Jean got to make out at least three tattoos on his body. Around his collarbones was the saying "Life is pain," a large, broken clock covered his right ribcage with bushels of roses, while there was name across his left bicep that was unfamiliar. Instinctively his hips rolled up as Marco released his hands and he immediately began to rush his finger each freckled, inked piece of skin he could touch. Every part of him was hot to the touch as if his body was running overtime but then again he knew that meant he was incredibly aroused. The slight pink tint to his skin was giving him quite a sense of satisfaction but tasting Marco was the best prize. He could taste his own impatience which only made him want to act out all the more.

Sipping a hand down Marco's gorgeously chiseled core to the button of his jeans, Jean popped it easily and slipped a hand down the front of his jeans. Securing a hand around his hardening cock, Jean rolled his fingers to examine just what he was packing. 

Marco let out a low growl that vibrated his throat as he spoke "If you wanted me out of these all you had to do was ask, Jean." Sitting back as Jean released his grasp, Marco crawled out of his jeans and tossed them to the floor. Marco's boxers clung so tightly to his skin Jean wondered if they were painted on. His erection strained against the fabric pulling it taut as he leaned over Jean and gave a rock of his hips. Garnering friction with each roll, nothing but a thin layer of cotton standing between them, Jean moaned loudly taking Marco off guard. He could tell that Marco liked it so he slung his arms over Marco's neck, blunt fingernails scraping at his back on a sharp roll. Mouth near his ear as he pulled Marco closer, each moan of his name had Marco trembling with anticipation. He quickly took to marking down his skin and leaving his own marks on Jean's porcelain skin.

Rolling the risen flesh of Jean's nipple in his mouth, Marco took to teasing Jean at each opportunity in return for his earlier antic. Jean took the actions in stride as his veins rolled with a fire he desperately sought relief for. Only Marco could sate the desperate need for him that pooled in his gut and he did just that. Marking down his body, Marco took time lavishing his skin in bites and heavy kisses. He'd followed the delicate trail of blonde hair down from his navel until he reached his cock. Sucking gently on the head as he stroke him experimentally, Marco watched Jean's fingers claw at the sheets knowing exactly how to work him. Teasing him with a tongue twirling around his shaft, Marco went several short motions before engulfing him into the wet heat of his mouth. Jean's back arched as his toes curled at the action seeking out the silken waves of Marco's perfect hair. Tangling his fingers into the thick locks, Jean kept no sound to himself and allowed each wanton moan to tear itself from his throat.

Thankfully Marco had thought of the last place for his stash and stretched over to the dresser. In his underwear drawer he'd planted his condoms and lubricant. Withdrawing the bottle, he popped the cap, coated his fingers liberally, and returned to his actions. Jean was already a mess beneath his touch. He loved how honest he was in the bedroom, directing his pace with his hips or fingers, vocalizing when something really drove him wild. Sex with Jean was so far better than sex with everyone he'd been with combined. Just that shy guy at the bar to now had Marco wondering if anyone else knew a deviant lied beneath it all. Of course he looked like he'd be fun in the sack but now that he'd proven it, Marco would give him whatever he asked of him. 

Jean was enjoying himself without inhibition and he begged Marco for more with each breath. As a finger explored inside him, rubbing against the muscular walls, Jean pushed his hips back into the action keeping to Marco's rhythm. When the second digit was entered into the heat of his body Jean's action hastened. He was desperate for more. The ache in his gut grew and he knew there was only one thing that would sate it. Marco probed into his prostate sending him reeling with a loud moan that could have rattled the walls. Marco hummed delightedly as he moved off his cock, placing a teasing kiss at the head, and forced his splaying fingers into Jean harder. Rubbing against the rim before pushing far into him to hit his prostate, Marco took his time unraveling Jean. Already he looked so wonderful, flushed and begging for his cock, so he decided to give into the demand once he'd adjusted to a third explorative finger.

Sitting back, Marco withdrew his finger and slipped his boxers off. Catching Jean's attention, he sat up against the pillows and watched the sight as Marco dropped the golden fabric to his knees. He could have made a rather interesting comment about how everything about Marco won gold but he decided to hold that comment until the end. Now he truly knew that Marco's galaxy like freckles truly did spread everywhere. With a little wink, Jean bit his lip and watched as Marco rolled the condom over himself and applied another layer of lubricant before moving back to him. Jean held his arms open as Marco filled the space. His hands wrapped around Marco's shoulder, tearing into the flesh as Marco pushed into his body. Marco hissed at the tight heat clenching around him but bent down to press a kiss to Jean's already sweat beaded forehead. Jean looked up with a lust clouded haze and nodded for him to move.

Each thrust clouded Jean's mind as he gasped for breath. Marco's erratic rhythm evened out to a pace that he pushed his hips back to meet easily. The heat between their bodies was sweltering and even Marco's forehead was finally beading with sweat. Jean clawed at Marco's shoulders as he came closer to the rise of his climax with each fiery kiss and hard thrust. His moans were only half coherent aside from Marco's name as their pant inducing rhythm continued. Feeling the clench and release of Jean's muscles along with the dull sting from his nails, Marco knew Jean was approaching his climax quickly. Reaching between them Marco secured a hand around his cock, stroking him firmly with each thrust of his hips pushing Jean to his orgasm. As the tepid fluid spilled over his skin and Jean's he continued to push him through the endorphin release as he began to approach his own.

Jean pushing his hips back as his rhythm faltered served as the final nail to his coffin. As his orgasm crashed into him he continued to ride out the endorphin high before collapsing over next to Jean who just as flushed, sticky, and sweaty. With a smile he reached a hand out to Jean's jaw and stretched over to kiss the corner of his mouth. It was the best he could do so Jean leaned in farther and kissed Marco sweetly. He wondered how a man as incredible as Marco went being single. It was an anomaly. Marco got up to clean up, bring him a towel, which Jean appreciated greatly, and then brought him a bottle of water. 

"You're fucking _ fantastic, _ Jean," Marco breathed as he pushed flaxen hair from Jean's forehead.

"Not bad yourself," Jean grinned as he took a sip of his water "so how are _ you _ single and trolling in bars?"

He shrugged "I'm _ picky. _ They have to love what I do and accept my hectic schedule at the first of my list. How about you?"

"Busy," Jean answered "and dating is such a hassle. You never know who's worth it anymore. I don't have the time to waste, to argue over my schedule, or any of that crap."

Marco sighed and looked over "Then how about a schedule you have and breakfast in the morning?"

"The fuck?" Jean asked. "That sounds a  _ lot _ like you asking me out after sex and knowing me for like two hours."

"So?" Marco grinned "What have you got to lose? We can do this when we show up in the same circuit. It's dating without a label unless you  _ wanna _ label it one day. Just continue like this. No pressure." Thinking on the prospective, as he had earlier, it did sound nice to have someone to relax with at the end of all of it. Chances were Marco would work up a good sweat and be ready for a good romp in celebration. If he also got to talk about things he had in common, like their obvious love of the sport, got to eat, drink, and be amazed at how ridiculous his luck was then it couldn't be so bad. He didn't think he should tell anyone about it that he worked with it but he'd definitely be volunteering for more events. His only worry was about what would happen when he was no longer covering the winter sports. He supposed that could be addressed at a later date...maybe things would change by then. Only the moon knew.

Jean rolled against Marco's side and wiggled beneath his arm "Alright. I'm game. Now, your choice of gold boxers has me wondering something."

"What's that?" Marco asked with a wide grin stretching almost molar to molar.

"If ‘going for the gold’ is a saying I should start using when sleeping with you. I don't have any gold medals but I'd definitely enjoy testing my luck," Jean beamed.

Marco huffed "Damn, after tonight I'll  _ definitely  _ give you one of mine. That performance definitely deserves one but you can come get gold all you want."

"Good," Jean yawned "then I'll start in the morning."

"Looking forward to it," Marco whispered as he reached over to cut off the lamp "and everything else you'll bring me, my new gold medal."


End file.
